5.20am. I closed the car door, pulled my hat down tight over my ears, adjusted my headlamp, grabbed my tripod, and headed out into the murky darkness of the woodland.

One of the joys of shooting at sunrise is that you are forever emerging into the unknown qualities of the day ahead, as if in a state of perpetual motion. As I picked my way through the intricate maze of paths that knit together to form this fabulous woodland tapestry, I was joined by a crescendo of chorusing songbirds, infusing me with joy at the prospect ahead. I could sense the bluebells before I actually made eye contact with them, and as I neared the boundary of the woodland I was able to turn my headlamp off. My eyes slowly acclimatised to the deep shadows and the emerging mid-tones, and I could just make out the carpet of blue, hovering over the vibrant limes of the bluebell leaves.

I took my time.

Woodlands are notoriously challenging to shoot as they're inherently 'messy' places, compositionally speaking, and it was a good twenty minutes before I took my camera out of its bag and began shooting. I'd planned my location well, at a point close to the edge of the woods, facing towards the South East, in order to enjoy the first rays of sunlight, and as the sun rose the quality of the colours changed, minute-on-minute. The Blue Hour light was perfect to capture the tones of the bluebells themselves but as warmer hues emerged from the sun, the blues receded and the limes of the beech leaves became translucent and radiant in my compositions.

I was up at 4.45am (yep as the days get longer, capturing the dawn becomes a MISSION, people!) and once again headed down to the Warren at Folkestone to see what the skies would yield. It’s quite a trek to get down to the beach, especially after rain, and I slid, skittered and squelched down to sea level.

Creating an image of real simplicity is way more complex than you might think. Landscapes have a habit of being fluid, messy and innately ‘busy’. Often we don’t notice these things as we zip around - too busy being busy.

When you stop and look - really look - a simple composition might just catch your eye … a solitary tree on a hilltop, a lone sheep grazing in a field, an isolated road winding its way through the wilderness. While you might be drawn to the scene, more often than not there will be ephemeral ‘extras’ which your brain kind of tunes out as it processes the simplified version. You only see what you want to see.

The photographer who is worth their salt will also see what they want to see, but when they process the image they will create a finished version free of the extraneous nonsense that adds nothing to the moment. This particular image is a great example of that. I had an exceptional moment on Saturday morning watching the mist flowing and morphing on its journey through the landscape, and when I found this composition I knew I had something special.

I hope you get some value from it. Please leave your comments below, and bear in mind that all photos on my website are available to purchase. Contact me for more details.

This is the first in a series of experimental pieces where I dive deep into the relationship between shape, form and sound. I would you to share one of your most precious commodities with me - five minutes of your undivided attention!